The Final Formula (22 page)

“Move.” Frank made it clear that it wasn’t up for discussion. When I reached the car, he stopped. “Climb in with him.”

“What?”

He leveled the gun on me. “I’m to deliver you alive. The number of holes you collect is up to you.”

“Deliver us to whom?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Having delayed all I could, I climbed into the trunk with Emil. It was a large car, but the fit was still close. The lid slammed closed, plunging us into complete darkness. It looked like I’d finally find out who’d been chasing me all these months.

Chapter
23

W
e didn’t drive far, though
it was hard to judge distance or even the passage of time while locked in a trunk with a bleeding man. I couldn’t see, but I patted Emil down and found the wet place on his stomach. I wiggled around until I had my jacket off and used it as a compress. At least, I hoped that was what I was doing. The darkness was too complete to tell more, but I did find the vials he’d slipped in his pocket. I guess Frank didn’t think an unconscious man a threat to throw a potion. I tucked them away, hoping to find a use for them later.

Unable to do anything else for Emil, I turned my attention to my surroundings. I couldn’t find any kind of release for the trunk lid, nor were the taillights accessible from the inside. So much for alerting any following motorist to our plight.

The car came to a stop, the faint squeal of old brakes loud in what sounded like an enclosed space. Doors slammed, and a few minutes later, the trunk lid opened. I squinted against the bright light, focusing on the familiar man standing over me.

“You!” I gripped the lip of the trunk and pulled myself upright. Agent Lawson took a step back as I scrambled out, but one of the men caught me by the arm before I could close the distance between us.

“If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was call. Emil’s been shot!”

“What’s this?” Lawson returned to the trunk, his footfalls echoing off the unpainted cinder block walls. We were in a garage—a run-down, two-car garage that smelled of rust and old oil. Like the others, Lawson was dressed in black fatigues, the PIA insignia stitched in dark thread on his black jacket. I wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the bright light of the bare bulb overhead.

“He was going to throw a potion at me.” Frank curled his lip, exposing those overlapping front teeth. “The wound isn’t mortal.”

“How do you know?” I demanded. “He was shot in the stomach. Bullets ricochet, organs seep. It could—”

“I don’t guess it matters,” Lawson said.

“Doesn’t matter?” I tried to tug my arm free, but the man holding me tightened his grip. “He needs medical attention!”

Lawson frowned at Emil’s unmoving form. “Is that why he’s unconscious?”

“I think his own potion knocked him out,” Frank said.

“What shall I do with her?” the man who held me asked.

“Cuff her to something.” Lawson tossed him a set of handcuffs.

“Hey,” I protested as the man pulled me across the room. I tried to dig in my heels, but it made no difference. The guy was seriously strong. “This goes way beyond bringing me in for questioning,” I shouted at Lawson.

No one bothered to answer. The man stopped near a workbench and snapped one cuff around my wrist before snapping the other to a vertical piece of conduit.

“You’re sure they know this formula?” Frank asked.

“One of them does,” Lawson answered. “She’s forty-two and he’s sixty-six.”

“Wow.” Frank braced his hands on the lip of the trunk, looking down at Emil. “It really works then. Eternal youth—and life.” He spoke the words in a reverent tone.

“You should get back before you’re missed,” Lawson told the men.

“You’ll keep us posted?” The man who’d cuffed me walked back to Lawson, a limp in his stride. He gripped Lawson’s shoulder in an oddly sympathetic gesture as he passed.

“Of course.” Lawson followed the men to the door and after a quiet exchange, closed it after them.

“So, you’re the guy behind this,” I said now that we were alone. “The Alchemica, the gun shop, and over in Covington tonight.”

Lawson pulled out an old-model flip phone and opened it. “You’re an elusive woman, Ms. Daulton.” He hit a button and brought the phone to his ear.

I gritted my teeth, annoyed that he’d made no effort to deny anything. I pulled at my handcuff, but there was no give. The bracket tacking the conduit to the wall prevented me from lowering my hand below the level of my waist.

“I got them,” Lawson said into the phone. “Both alchemists.”

I stopped rattling the cuffs to listen.

“Shall I bring them to you or—” He fell silent, tapping a finger to the phone pressed to his ear.

“An old garage outside Covington,” Lawson said. “The Grand Master has been shot.”

At least he’d acknowledged it. I’d begun to wonder if he even knew that Emil was bleeding on his trunk floor.

“His color is still good, but it was a gut shot. If anything was—” He fell silent once more, and the tapping finger stilled.

“Yes, sir,” he answered after a moment. “I will.” He pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call.

“So, you’re not running the show.”

His gaze shifted to me, forehead bunching as he looked me over.

“What?”

He moved closer. “You’re really not magical.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why is he registering you?”

“What? Who?”

“The Flame Lord. He started your registration with the PIA.”

“He did?” When Rowan had claimed me before the director, I’d thought it was a ruse to get the PIA to let me go. It pissed me off that he hadn’t told me about it, but I didn’t want to react in front of Lawson.

“You didn’t know? Is he holding you against your will?” Lawson seemed genuinely outraged. Perhaps he had some scruples after all.

“And this upsets you why?”

“Declaring you magical gives him jurisdiction over you.” Lawson fisted his hands. “He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”

“And yet you kidnap me and allow Emil to be shot. From where I stand,” I rattled my cuff, “I’m not seeing the difference.”

“No, I suppose not.” He turned on his heel. Several angry strides took him across the garage before he spun around and came back to me. “The PIA was created to keep the magical in their place, and yet the agency bows and scrapes like everyone else.” He smashed his fist into his palm.

“I get the sense you don’t like the magical much.”

He gave me a glare.

“Doesn’t that make you a bit of a hypocrite, Agent Lawson?”

He leaned forward, bracing a hand to either side of my head. “I sense magic; I cannot use it. I am
not
one of them.”

I itched to use a potion, but I’d still be cuffed to the wall even if it did incapacitate him. I’d have to wait until he released me.

“You lied to me about the boy.” Lawson pushed off the wall, but didn’t move away. “It wasn’t a potion.”

James.

“The Flame Lord is registering him as well,” Lawson continued. “He claims the boy is a shape-shifter.”

Close enough.

“He’s powerful. Very powerful.”

I held his gaze, refusing to give him any more information. Lawson was a magic hater. A magic hater that worked for the PIA. Not a good combination.

Lawson held my gaze for a few more seconds. “Why do you work for the Elements, Ms. Daulton?”

“Who said I did?”

Lawson gave me a look that said he believed differently.

“The question is who do you work for? Who wants the Final Formula?”

“Who doesn’t?” He turned and walked away, this time he left the garage entirely, slamming the pedestrian door behind him.

“Emil?” I called out.

Silence answered me.

For the next few minutes, I gave the cuffs a thorough workout, but found no give in either the handcuffs or the conduit. Unwilling to concede defeat, I turned my attention to the workbench beside me. A rusted toolbox took up most of the lower shelf, but it was too far away to reach.

Greasy bottles of oil and cans of assorted lubricants and solvents sat closer. Most were flammable, but burning down the garage wasn’t an option. There were plenty of alchemical applications for the ingredients before me, but without time or a lab, I was a bit limited. However, a simple mechanical adaptation might be practical. With my small hands and a little oil, I might be able to slip the cuff.

I stretched out as far as I could, reaching with one foot toward the shelf holding the oil. The toe of my sneaker touched one bottle. I leaned further, resting my weight on the handcuff and the other leg. I lunged, but instead of slipping my foot behind the bottle, I tapped it dead center and toppled it over backwards.

“Crap.” I fell to the side, slamming my shoulder against the corner of the workbench. “Damn it.” That hurt.

I regained my balance for another attempt when the pedestrian door opened. Smothering a gasp, I stumbled back against the wall as Lawson walked in. I didn’t want him to see the advantages of my current position. He might move me elsewhere.

My fears proved unfounded. He had his cell phone pressed firmly to one ear and didn’t even glance in my direction. Out of options, I slipped my hand into my front pocket and fisted one of Emil’s vials.

“Now?” Lawson stopped beside the car and paused to listen. “Okay. Where?” He listened a moment longer then ended the call.

“Time to go,” he said to me. He pulled out a keyring.

“Go where?”

Without answering, he slipped a key into the lock and removed the cuff from the pipe. Now was my chance.

I flicked the cap off the vial and flung the contents in his face. I wasn’t certain what the potion was or how it would affect him, but any liquid thrown in the eyes tended to slow someone down. Or it should. I hadn’t much luck with the smelling salts.

Not waiting for a reaction, I turned and ran. If I could make it outside, maybe I could lose him in the dark.

“No!” he shouted.

I’d reached the car, halfway to the pedestrian door, when he fired. Pain laced through my right calf. My leg buckled, throwing me into the front fender of the car. I thumped into the metal hard enough to leave a dent. Pushing myself upright, I turned to face him.

“Don’t move,” Lawson started toward me, his gun trained on my chest. “I will shoot you again.”

“What about the Formula? If Emil or I know it—”

“You’ve both taken it.” He continued toward me. “You’re immortal.”

“It’s an anti-aging potion, not a get-out-of-death-free pass.” Was that why he was so indifferent about Emil’s injury?

He stopped a foot away. The potion ran down his cheeks and dripped off his chin. “What?”

“I don’t age, but I can die.”

“That’s not what—” He frowned and shook his head before turning wide eyes on me, his pupils fully dilated. “What was in this potion?” He ran one hand over his wet cheek.

“It was Emil’s. I was just hoping it was acidic.”

His eyes swept over me, lingering on my hips. “What’s in your pocket?” He twitched the gun at my right pocket. “I feel confusion.”

Stunned, I pulled a vial of orange liquid from my pocket. Rotating it, I read the small label taped to the glass. “Identity Crisis.” It was the same potion Emil had attempted to hit Rowan with at the Elemental Offices. “It causes a temporary memory lapse.”

“Your left ankle holds pain. What is it?”

“A blow tube of pepper dust.” Perhaps I should have made an effort to reach it.

I studied him. Was that what a Sensitive saw—not only the magic, but its purpose? Well, a powerful Sensitive anyway. Emil’s potion must have elevated Lawson’s skills. Impressive.

“What’s—” Lawson stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. To my surprise, he turned to face the garage door.

Limping, I took a step back and then another, eying the distance to the pedestrian door. It felt like a red-hot poker had been jabbed in my calf, but it held my weight. That would have to do. I turned and ran.

I made it half the distance before he opened fire. Expecting a bullet, I dove to the side, but slipped on a patch of oil. I went down on one knee, cracking it against the concrete. The new pain momentarily masked the old.

A snarl stood my hair on end, and I twisted around to look behind me. A massive hellhound stood before the garage door. A door now pockmarked with several bullet holes. Lawson hadn’t been shooting at me.

James’s glowing green eyes shifted to me before returning to Lawson. He started forward, his claws clicking on the cement floor.

“Shit,” Lawson whispered and pulled the trigger again. The garage door shook with the impact, the bullet passing right through James. Lawson squeezed off a couple more shots that left my ears ringing. Wood splinters rained down on James, or through him rather, scattering on the floor at his feet.

Lawson staggered back, gun trained on James. “What is he?”

“That’s your shape-shifter,” I answered.

“The boy?” Lawson stepped back until he stood even with me. “No, he’s more. He’s death.”

I glanced up at the wide-eyed man beside me. Considering that he could now see magic’s purpose, that was disturbing.

James continued toward us, his attention focused on Lawson.

“Stop!” Lawson cried. When his command failed to get the desired result, he grabbed me, shielding his body with mine. “I’ll blow her head off.” He shoved the gun barrel into the soft underside of my jaw. I gripped his forearm, but didn’t have the strength to pull him away.

James hesitated. His hackles rose and black lips lifted to reveal gleaming teeth that looked far more plentiful than the typical canine’s. He crouched, the muscles beneath his shaggy fur quivering.

A hot gust of air ruffled my hair as if a furnace had kicked on.

Lawson glanced over his shoulder and whimpered. His gun ground deeper into my jaw, forcing my head back.

“Dinner, little brother?” a dark voice whispered from behind us. The other grim. James had opened the portal. He intended to rip Lawson’s soul. I had to stop him; I couldn’t question the dead.

“James—”

The pedestrian door rattled and Lawson turned slightly, keeping both James and the door in view. The lock snicked and the door swung open. Rowan stood on the threshold, Donovan’s bulk filling the space behind him. Rowan hesitated, taking in the scene, and then flames ignited in his eyes.

“It’s him,” Lawson whispered and swung the gun toward Rowan.

Rowan lunged forward and Lawson fired.

“Rowan!” I screamed.

James sprang, but I knew he was too late.

Fire raced across the garage, lapping up the very air as it roared toward us. I squeezed my eyes shut and heat enveloped me, so intense I feared I’d been roasted alive. And in the next instant it was gone—and so was Lawson. Released from his support, I staggered away and almost went down before arms once more embraced me.